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Entries Tagged as 'Music'

9.19.2017

Every night is emo night, but this night was particularly emo.

By Justin Hermstedt

Photo by Caleb Hundelt

On September 8, a couple hundred darkly and emotionally dressed young people emerged from the shadows to descend upon the Granada. Style on the Hill came to document the party – nay – the movement that is Emo Nite.

That night the Granada provided a space for Lawrence’s millennials to let their emo flags fly. Here are a few of the looks Emo Nite inspired.

Photos by Nicole Mitchell

“Not a band. Not DJ’s. We throw parties for the music we love,” says the twitter bio of Emo Nite. I had come expecting a band, to be honest. I didn’t know what to make of the fact that I was basically just listening to someone’s emo playlist. As it would turn out, I just needed to hear the right song. Here’s an audio clip of when the Emo Nite team played “Welcome to the Black Parade” by My Chemical Romance.

Photos by Caleb Hundelt

Emo music brought people together that night. Emoism may have been a temporary, regrettable phase for many of us, but at Emo Nite I learned that a part of it sticks with you forever. You can take the eyeliner off of the kid, but you can’t take the kid off the eyeliner. Anyway, one of the Emo Nite hosts said it best at the end of the show. “There’s hurricanes happening and the threat of nuclear war, but none of that matters right now.”

How awesome is that? Emo Nite is an outlet for angst and anguish no matter where it comes from: politics, parents, or puberty.

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9.08.2017

By Rebekah Swank

The Uptown Theater is an old-school concert venue with vintage vibes. The bright-shining bulbs spelling out “Uptown” lit the sign below –“SZA” was illuminated. Kansas City natives and visitors began lining up outside of the theater as early as 4:30 p.m. Fans dressed in true, fabulous SZA fashion while wrapping around the corner and down the street. I saw tight, full-body sequin jumpsuits; oversized jackets, Adidas sweatpants paired with bikini tops, and voluminous, curly hair.

Walking into the concert hall, I was overwhelmed with a skunky scent. White clouds of smoke were scattered throughout the crowd. As the curtains opened and people screamed, giant neon letters spelling “CTRL” gleamed over the heads in front of me. SZA emerged in loose, purple, metallic pants and a black tank top; her long red hair billowed behind her with every step she took.

SZA’s real name is Solána Imani Rowe. She got the inspiration for her stage name from the Supreme Alphabet and the rapper RZA. S stands for “sovereign,” Z stands for “zig-zag,” and A stands for “Allah, the most high.” SZA was raised as an Orthodox Muslim, and still practices Islam, and relies on her faith to stay true to herself and her music.

Mitch Saffle, a student at Kansas State University, admires SZA for being honest in her album newest album, CTRL.

“[The album] was a story of her life. She was being open and honest with her listeners, and because of that I realized I related to some of her struggles regarding relationships and self-worth. SZA is truly an inspirational artist,” Saffle said.

SZA’s connection to her fans is unique to her and her performances. When she sang and danced, I could see her radiating with happiness as more and more of her followers sang along with her.

“SZA was an amazing performer, and I really appreciated her interaction with the crowd, asking how we were doing ‘physically, mentally, and spiritually,’” Saffle said. “To me it seemed that she was just a genuine person doing what she loved.”

Although her show seemed short, SZA’s performance was energetic and authentic. From her opening song of “Supermodel,” when the crowd screeched with excitement, to her finale singing “Twenty Something,” she twirled around the stage and bellowed her lyrics with fervor.

I have listened to SZA since I was a senior in high school. I have trolled through her Instagram and Twitter accounts. I have tried to recreate some of her greatest looks with very little success. She is truly a one of a kind musical artist, and after seeing her on stage, all I can say is “Go Gina.”

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7.21.2017

By Justin Hermstedt

Melodrama is an album of high and low, flight and crash landing, ecstasy and hangover. In the four years since the release of Pure Heroine in 2013, Lorde has accumulated a new trove of source material for her autobiographical songwriting. With Melodrama, Lorde reestablishes her ability to translate her experiences into bittersweet illustrations of young-adulthood. Lorde, along with collaborators including Jack Antonoff (aka Bleachers) and Flume, crafted a comeback that’s too nuanced to be called a breakup album: Melodrama is a quest for identity.

The album comprehensively tackles the spectrum of emotions a breakup imposes. Lorde begins by revealing the unhealthy duality of her former relationship, then sifts through the different stages of grief and heartbreak she endured. Lorde begins and ends Melodrama with radio-friendly pop jams, but we’re taken on a visceral journey in the space between “Green Light” and “Perfect Places.”

“Green Light” is an energized kick starter to the album that places Lorde in a reckless post-breakup furor. Wasting no time, Lorde tosses a hope-filled key change at the listener after a scathing first verse (to be clear, we’re only 45 seconds into the album at this point). This divergence introduces the identity crisis that a breakup can hurl you into, especially when you’re young. When you love a partner, they become a part of who you are. You’re not yourself without them–you’re not whole. When they leave you, it doesn’t shatter your delicate glass heart; it tears a chunk of flesh from your body. Many-a-songwriter would whimsically say they were “left to pick up the pieces.” Instead, on “Sober II (Melodrama)” Lorde bluntly shares the “terror and the horror” of her “holy sick divine nights” newly alone.

The feeling that connects the first ten tracks of Melodrama is uncertainty. Lorde grapples with a number of pressing questions. How do you recover from heartbreak? Who are you without that person, without that missing part? Ultimately, what lessons and memories do you take with you from your failed relationship?

It’s difficult to answer these questions for yourself, and harder still to know if you’ve answered them correctly. On the question of how to cope, Lorde has a few strategies, each under the mantle of a different persona. The first Lorde we meet is the deadened ballader of “Liability.” Blaming or hating yourself is a foreseeable stage of grief, but she manages to escape the abyss of total self loathing. She leans on her own shoulder, calling herself “the only love [she hasn’t] screwed up.”

“Hard Feelings/Loveless” introduces us to two new shades of Lorde. These personas are like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, if Dr. Jekyll was timid and melancholic, and Mr. Hyde was a bad bitch. As “Hard Feelings” fades out, we start to get the sense that Lorde is going to be okay. There’s still some venting to do (cue “Loveless” and “Sober II”), but she’s given the first indications of inner-peace.

Inner-peace and acceptance are the goal from the get-go, (from the green light, if you will) but they don’t come naturally after being dumped. You’re given a few variables–anger, misery, delirium, etc.–and you have to plug them into an equation. Somehow, these terrible feelings are supposed to equate to peace.

In the third act of Melodrama, Lorde tries to make it compute. The last four tracks really are a remarkable sequence of music, and they propel the album above the sum of its parts. On the heart-wrenching “Writer In the Dark” Lorde finds strength in her solitude in New York:

I ride the subway, read the signs

I let the seasons change my mind

I love it here, since I stopped needing you

Now that she’s allowed herself to move on, Lorde reflects on what she wants to take with her from her former love. It’s okay, Lorde suggests, to cherish certain memories; they don’t have to be tarnished by the bad ones.

The reprise of “Liability” is one final vanquishing of self-blame. Lorde defiantly declares that its his fault, his loss, and his problem. “You’re not what you thought you were. Leave.”

“Perfect Places” was tepid as a single. It seemed playful and catchy, but not particularly deep. As the conclusion to Melodrama, it’s triumphant. “Perfect Places” chronologically pairs with “Green Light,” depicting a vignette of Lorde a year or so after the the events of the rest of the album. She tumbles through a cycle of partying, but remains very self-aware. Not all of her wounds have healed, but perhaps they don’t need to.

Amid her heartbreak, she rediscovers herself as a balance of those personas and who she was before. The impossible equation that neutralizes heartbreak hasn’t been solved, but it’s been reframed. Lorde processed the hopeless pits of self-blame, the unfulfilling pursuit of revenge, and the crushing weight of uncertainty, and she forged a stronger self. “The heartache, and the trauma, and the fucking melodrama,” have lead her here. The end of Melodrama finds Lorde wandering on, still learning and still healing. Miraculously, she’s able to roll her eyes at the melodrama of it all.

Expect adversity, and redirect it to change you for the better. Expect to hear “The Louvre” on season 2 of Riverdale. And expect to someday hear more from Lorde, a prodigious songwriter and voice of a generation.

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3.07.2017

By Justin Hermstedt

2016 ended over two months ago, and just when you thought you were caught up on that year’s music, 2017 comes around and brings a whole new lineup. There are truly no off-days allowed in the pursuit of good music, but we’ll give you a pass just this once. Here are a few albums you may have missed this year already. Now keep your ears to the streets so you don’t miss any more.

Process – Sampha

Sampha built up hype for his debut album through his collaborations with popular artists such as Drake, Kanye West, Frank Ocean, and Solange. Big names, one might say. Released early in February, Process is an intimate introduction to Sampha.

The first few songs reveal the pressure and anxiety Sampha experiences: “It’s so hot I’ve been melting out here / I’m made out of plastic out here.” This feeling builds until the fourth track, “(No One Knows Me) Like the Piano,” an endearing ballad dedicated to Sampha’s mother, who died in 2015.

The album has a very special way of finding highs and lows from song to song. The quiet songs build a desire in the listener for something danceable, which eventually comes in “Reverse Faults” and “Timmy’s Prayer.”

Process solidifies Sampha as a pop artist with unrivaled soul.

Plural – Electric Guest

Plural is Electric Guest’s sophomore album, arriving five years after the commercially successful Mondo.

As in Mondo, the music in Plural is characterized by tight, dancy percussion and synth. Electric Guest seems to draw influence from, say, Depeche Mode and your common elevator music. Plural leans slightly towards the elevator music side of the spectrum compared to Mondo.Plural is notable for its optimistic tone. Songs like “Dear to Me” and “Sarah” are more smiley than we’ve seen Electric Guest in the past.

Although Plural is generally high-tempo, there’s still a hint of the uneasy brooding of Mondo, like in the opening track, “Zero.” The best new development in this album is a more diverse vocal performance, aside from the band’s signature mellow falsetto. Check out the surprising passion in “Back For Me.”